


Side Hustle

by vityamins



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: (in crime), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Humor, M/M, Professional Associates, conman Charon, conman Hermes, it's just me trying to be funny guys, rating for language and innuendo, theif au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-26
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-17 20:28:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29722791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vityamins/pseuds/vityamins
Summary: Charon and Hermes run a very honourable, not to mention fruitful, business together.HM Revenue & Customs might not quite see it that way, but what they don't know can't hurt them.The pair are tied to the art of the con by money and excitement equally, so when his father proposes a deal that offers both, Hermes can't quite help himself.
Relationships: Charon/Hermes (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've been meaning to post this for ages; I'm an absolute sucker for Charon and Hermes.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

At 5.45pm, a young man in delivery gear strutted through the revolving glass doors of Tantalus & Co, stepping lightly on the shiny polished floor up to an equally shiny desk. He caught a look of annoyance from the woman behind it in the split second before she put up a placid mask, complete with a smile that stopped well before her dead gaze. He didn’t blame her one bit; if he were working in a customer service position (which he had) he’d have told anyone who came in outside of regular hours that if they were incapable of reading both their company website and a clock, then they had no business afflicting the outside world with their presence and could fuck right off (which is why he no longer had a job in retail). As such, he donned his most sympathetic smile and opened his mouth before she could speak.

“I’m here for the chairs.” He spoke with confidence, the air of a man who did this every day, 9-5, and was probably more than a bit sick of it. The woman looked confused, brow creasing minutely. The fake smile remained.

“The chairs…?”

“Shipment was this morning, fifty blue O-model plastic chairs. I’m  _ really _ hoping they haven’t unpacked them all yet - don’t much feel like packing them myself at this hour.” He leaned familiarly over the desk to tip his head towards a ticking clock behind it, while the receptionist looked around her computer, shuffling some of the paper.

“I don’t have any notes- ah!” she lifted a delivery note from the pile, “Says it was signed for by the morning staff. What’s happening with it?”

He smiled again, as if in understanding. “ _ Morning _ staff, that’ll explain it. Honestly, managers are supposed to  _ manage _ , not just lord over the people doing the actual work. If I had a penny for every time mine forgot to pass on messages from the shift before mine, I wouldn’t be working deliveries, let me tell you that! We’ve started shoving everything on the break room board - makes things a damn sight easier. Well, other than the drawing pin dicks that always seem to turn up right before and area manager inspection - ah, sorry boss, I digress. The chairs are faulty.”

“Faulty?”

“Yep,” he shrugged, leafing through the pages of a clipboard he seemed to pull from thin air, “lawsuit waiting to happen, apparently. Which, y’know…” he waved a hand at the rest of the Very Big law firm’s Very Big reception, “Isn’t ideal.”

The woman’s fake smile relaxed as it quirked into a small, but very real one. “Tell me about it,” she said conspiratorially, shoulders relaxing, “the list of employee rules is insane. I’d never seen a contract that specified how grippy your  _ shoes _ had to be.”

“Nothing is more thorough than a rich man trying to cover his own arse.” He laughed.

“I’ll get Darren down for you, he deals with all of this.” She’d barely picked up the phone when a young man all set to head home for the day appeared, making a beeline for the doors. “Darren! I was just about to call, there’s a man here to take the chairs.”

It took a couple of beats for him to stop before begrudgingly making his way towards the desk.

“What’s going on?” His voice was breathless, as if he’d run down a couple of flights of stairs in a bid to escape early. 

“Apparently the delivery of chairs is faulty.”

“Are they?”

The delivery man piped up. “We got the message from the manufacturer less than an hour ago. They said they’d phone ahead, which roughly translates to ‘you’re on your own, POETS day is exclusively for middle management and above’. If you’ve only got-” he glanced at his watch, “10 minutes left on the clock, I’ll nip in and show you what they told me, then get everything loaded up.”

Darren shot another longing glance at the door, then went to open the door he’d just emerged from. He held it open behind him for the delivery man to follow. 

A couple of minutes and a fair amount of chair-wobbling later, Darren went to grab his manager. He came back with two identical papers, each signed several times, and handed one over. The other man squinted at it.

“Unless you’ve got two managers with the same name and handwriting, I’d say whoever  _ their _ boss is might have something to say about that.”

“And if I ever get another job offer and grow a pair, I might draw attention to it.” Darren laughed. “Come on, you’ll need help two get this lot loaded before six.”

At 6.08pm, the man drove off, 50 new chairs in the back of his van. This point would be firmly emphasised on the following Monday afternoon to the resource manager whose name was messily signed twice where another name should have been, authorising the removal.

-o-

If Darren had been paying more attention, he might have noticed that the man who came to collect the chairs had not been alone. The shadowy figure in the drivers’ seat had remained unnoticed, silently watching as the van was loaded up. As soon as his associate hopped into the cab, door slamming behind him, the driver started the engine and the pair disappeared into the evening.

“I  _ told you _ that would work, partner!” the young man threw off his delivery man hat, tossing it into the footwell and raising his feet onto the dash. The taller man tutted, reaching to swipe at the offending pair of feet. 

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t commit a crime whilst committing a crime and all. But come on, that was all too easy. Well, even easier for  _ you,  _ I daresay.”

The driver let out a low growl.

“Don’t play coy, I know perfectly well that you’re hiding a gorgeous, strong pair of arms under that coat. Perfect for carrying merchandise. They’re wasted on your deskwork.”

Charon turned to raise one eyebrow from behind a pair of round purple-lensed glasses at his associate, as if making an offer.

“You know that I would  _ absolutely not _ prefer to do it. I’d be wasted on paperwork. It’s much harder to lie on paper - though  _ you _ seem exceptionally skilled at it - and besides, I’d be bored and miserable and I do tend to make that everyone else’s problem.”

Charon only chuckled under his breath.

A short while later, they pulled into a small school car park. It was late enough that the students and most staff seemed to have gone home for the weekend, though the light was on in the reception.

“Perhaps I should’ve driven,” Hermes mused, “I could have had us here in half the time.”

Charon grumbled in response.

“Well, you’d still be my eye candy! I do my little acting schtick, then kiss my most handsome associate as I drive off into the sunset. You manage all the administration and look  _ very  _ fetching in a vintage designer suit - I don’t suppose you have any experience with a typewriter, do you? I’ve always liked the aesthetic. I daresay you’d make an excellent secretary.”

The much taller man gave him a look that was supposed to say “I put up with you because I love you very much.” but it was far too fond to be anything but teasing.

The pair hopped out of the truck and rang, before Charon pointed out the ‘BELL BROKEN, PLEASE KNOCK’ sign on the door.

“What can I say, I see a button, I push it.” Hermes muttered, knuckles rapping at the glass. A rather tired looking woman glanced around a wall, smiling at the pair and holding up a finger from behind the window before disappearing. She emerged a moment later from a side door, an older man in a boiler suit in tow. The nervous look the pair gave the more intimidating of the two was quickly relieved by a warm greeting from Hermes, who had to force down a grin when Charon moved to help him unload their cargo. The apparent teacher and janitor signed the paper Charon presented, then the pair hopped back into their van and drove off into the night.

Hermes hadn’t stopped smiling since the other had helped him with the chairs, and was in an excellent mood as he scrolled through his phone. “You big ole softy,” he murmured affectionately, “selling those chairs to an impoverished school on the cheap.”

Charon tilted his head meaningfully. 

“Hey, they weren’t  _ wholly  _ free. We still pay for petrol. And I don’t care how much  _ personal _ use we get out of this little number-” he waved the delivery hat over the rest of his outfit, “it still counts as a business expense.” Charon flushed at that; his partner turned in his seat to appreciate the sight in full. “Besides,” Hermes said, deciding to push his luck, “good quality typewriters seem to be fairly expensive.” He waved his phone with a teasing smirk.

Before Charon could recover from his blush and take a swipe at his associate, they arrived back at their office. The van was swiftly tucked away in the automatic garage, leaving the pair to stand outside the dark, unassuming building enjoying the chill of the night air before heading home. The larger man pulled out a cigarette and a lighter. Ever the gentleman, waiting until his partner was upwind of him to smoke. To Hermes’ slight surprise, the man used the lighter on the paper he pulled from his pocket, using that to then light the cigarette in his mouth before tossing the flaming note into the metal bin beside him. Hermes recognised the delivery note they’d handed to the teacher.

“You could have lit the cigarette and then the paper separately.”

Charon frowned at him.

“I apologise, darling. I meant to say, you looked very suave needlessly inconveniencing yourself just now.”

The other man nodded in satisfaction. He blew a haze of purple smoke into the night air. Hermes had no idea what the other man smoked; it didn’t seem to be tobacco, and carried a light, spiced scent that hung around Charon himself. Imported, expensive, and most probably illegal.

Hermes piped up, “Do a trick, boss.”

The taller man tried to throw him a tired look, but his eyes were sparkling.

“Come on, I’m freezing my tits off here. Humour me.”

Charon took a drag and blew a series of purple smoke rings, snapping his fingers above each one to form a little heart.

“Awww.”

Before Charon could entertain his partner with another trick, Hermes’ ringtone sounded. The shorter man reached for his phone, wincing and lowering the call volume as the unmistakable boom of his father’s voice sounded.

“HERMES! I TRUST YOU ARE DOING WELL?”

“Well, I-”

“EXCELLENT. I HAVE A FEELING THAT MY NEWS WILL IMPROVE THINGS EVEN FURTHER!”

And Hermes had a feeling that it probably wouldn’t. His father had a well-deserved reputation for making spectacularly bad decisions; Hermes only hoped it wasn’t another baby. He loved his half-siblings. He was also very aware that he had entirely too many of them.

“I HAVE A BUSINESS PROPOSITION FOR YOU.” Zeus announced.  _ That  _ was interesting. The majority of Hermes’ family had an idea of what he did, some of them using him to source or fence items in the past. They also shied away from his work, however. Even those of them unfazed by the illegality of it disliked his professional associate, avoiding him if they could help it. Hermes rolled a loose stone on the tarmac under his shoe.

“What sort of proposition, Pops? I have an exceedingly busy schedule, you know. If it’s a delivery you’re after, all my usual channels are still open.”

“IT’S A DELIVERY OF  _ SORTS _ , I SUPPOSE.” Zeus laughed. Hermes’ quick mind jumped to the unspoken implication. His father wanted him to steal something for him. “COME BY THE OFFICE ON MONDAY. I’LL GIVE YOU THE DETAILS THEN!” Zeus hung up rather than waiting for an answer.

Charon tilted his head at his partner as if in question, politely pretending he hadn’t heard the entire exchange.

“Looks like Pops wants us to steal something for him, boss.”

Charon hummed at him.

“Eh, maybe. Depends on what it is, I suppose. Definitely  _ not _ if it’s a person. Gods, I  _ hope _ it’s not a person.”

Charon chuckled as he finished his cigarette, binning the butt before the pair made their way over to the car parked neatly nearby. Sleek and black, it radiated class. Hermes preferred his own car, but it would be his turn to drive the pair to work soon enough.

With the gentle purr of an expensive engine, they were gone.

  
  


-o-

  
  


The weekend rolled by in a blur of early morning runs, coffee and kisses, and lazy movie nights. All too soon it was Monday. Against his better judgement, Hermes had decided to entertain his old man, if only because curiosity had consumed him.

He always was a sucker for a secret.

Olympus Ltd. was easy enough to find, even if it hadn't been the largest, most pointlessly ostentatious building in the city, Hermes remembered the route by heart. He thanked the gods his relatives had long since given up on making him join the family business.

The man didn’t bother stopping at the front desk or security, simply breezing past reception as if he owned the place. Predictably, nobody thought to stop him. It was all too easy, really. A short elevator ride later saw him pausing outside his father’s office, fist raised in a hesitant knock.

There was no secretary at Zeus’ desk.

Were he at anyone else’s office, Hermes wouldn’t have given Ganymede’s absence much thought. But, given his sire’s  _ proclivities,  _ there was a decent chance that he was about to inadvertently walk into something he’d really rather not see.

On the other hand, he  _ did _ have a schedule to keep. He knocked, hoping the pause would give whoever might be behind the door time to make themselves safe for the environment they were in.

“Come in.”

_ Huh, _ thought Hermes,  _ that was quick. _ Either his suspicions had been unfounded, or someone had just been shoved under a desk. He gingerly opened the door.

“Ah, there you are Hermes! I knew you couldn’t resist a mystery.”

Zeus was regally draped in an enormous office chair, fashioned to look like a throne. It was just as gaudy as the rest of the room, covered in as much gold filigree and red- was that leather? Hermes was glad that the door had swung shut behind him; he was sure that the clash between modern office chic and ostentatious pomp would’ve otherwise given him a headache. The only saving grace of what could only be described as Hollywood’s answer to a bronze-age throne room was that the colossal wooden desk was mercifully open at the front. The last thing the place needed was a concubine popping out from somewhere.

“Well, what’s family for if not help in times of need?” he chirped, rocking on his heels.

“Quite so. I know you’re probably itching to dash off somewhere, so I’ll get straight to the point.” the old man leant back in his office-chair-cum-throne, nodding towards a smaller seat on the other side of the desk. Hermes pretended not to see the gesture, preferring to stand. If someone shone a UV light around the place it’d look like a Jackson Pollock painting, and he was wearing nice trousers.

Zeus continued, unfazed. “You remember your Uncle Hades, do you not?”

Hermes did. He hadn’t seen much of the man despite the familial connection, only really knowing him in the capacity of his business. Tartarus Investments was an enormous firm that rivalled the size of his father’s, focusing on long term investments that other companies wanted to unload off their books. Its shrewd management and staunchly loyal employees made it a fearsome competitor to Olympus (and to Hermes’ other uncle’s firm, though that mostly dealt in offshore finance). Charon had more dealings with them than he did, since his mother and brothers were closely integrated with the business. His professional associate had a history with them, and was occasionally still hired as a freelancer to cook the books if need be.

“That I do, Pops! I suppose he’s central to this little endeavour, is he?”

“He certainly is. The man has something of mine and I want it back.” said Zeus. Hermes didn’t have the time to pick apart the intricacies of how accurately his Father used the word ‘mine’; he simply waited for the man to continue. “It’s a small black filofax, leather. I believe he keeps it in his office.”

“Home or work?”

Zeus laughed in a mocking way rather than with any real humour. “With Hades there is no difference. My brother never leaves that gloomy building.”

Hermes clicked his tongue, considering the proposal. “I have a price.”

“And I have a financial empire. Which will require a clause in my will in order to be split amongst any  _ bastards _ .”

Before the mood soured, Hermes hopped back over to the door.

“I’ll have my associate send the invoice to Ganymede; it’ll be on your desk in a couple of days.”

Zeus’ mood instantly changed from stormy back to a clear sky. “Excellent! I look forward to it. Though utmost discretion is-”

“Provided as part of the service.” chirped Hermes, seeing himself out.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plans are set in motion.

Twenty-five hours later saw Charon and Hermes sat back in the cab of their van, in a multistorey a couple of blocks from Tartarus Investments’ office. Charon had surprised his associate by easily agreeing to the plan; Hermes still wasn’t sure if it was a show of trust or whether he had ulterior motives.

Regardless, he was on board, which was what mattered. Hermes had been running scams since he popped out of the womb -  _ long _ before he had the pleasure of meeting Charon’s company - but he couldn’t picture working without him. Not anymore.

“All set, boatman?” Hermes asked. It was an old alias from Charon’s dealing days that his associate had discovered and teased him mercilessly for. The tall man grumbled in reply, already itching for a cigarette. Hermes could easily have carried out the plan by himself, though the pair always preferred the other to be present  _ just in case _ . Besides, it allowed the shorter man to give the other a peck on the cheek before setting off.

To his surprise, the larger man grabbed him by the arm, stopping him from flying off. Hermes was forever surprised at the Charon’s agility; despite how methodical he was, he could always keep up with the smaller man. He leaned over the gearstick to press a gentle kiss to his partner’s plush lips, pressing a small piece of paper into his hand as he did so. Hermes unfolded it in confusion, a way to distract himself from deepening the kiss. They’d never get anything done at that rate.

It was a list of numbers, each labelled with a corresponding door in the building. Hermes’ brow creased minutely. “They don’t change the codes?”

Charon shook his head.

“So the security’s dogshit, huh boss? I’d heard Uncle Hades kept a rather tight ship - this couldn’t keep out a draft!”

Charon removed his hands from the smaller man in order to sign:

<Easy to get in, difficult to get out. You’ll need a keycard for that.>

“And I don’t suppose you have one, my ever invaluable partner?”

Charon shook his head again. <They  _ do _ change. Best take the elevator all the way back down. It’s slow, but you only need a keycard once.>

Hermes beamed at him. “Honestly darling, what  _ would _ I do without you?” the smaller man said, firmly planting another kiss to his associate’s surprised mouth. He popped a subtle earpiece in as he leaned back, delighting at the slightly dazed expression on the older man’s face. “I shouldn’t be gone too long,” he chirped, making sure the sound could be heard in Charon’s own earpiece, “but if you get bored, I have a Pinterest board of secretarial outfits on your phone for you to peruse.”

He was out of the van in an instant, slamming the door shut and dodging the half-hearted swat aimed his way by his blushing associate. He could still hear the man grumbling through the earpiece as he made his way onto the street.

“Come now sweetheart, you  _ know _ you love to dress me up. Wouldn’t it be nice for me to return the favour?”

The answering murmur from the earpiece triggered a realisation that stopped Hermes in his tracks. He chuckled quietly. “I suppose the earpiece is rather pointless, isn’t it - since you aren’t the most verbose of fellows, darling.”

His phone buzzed a moment later.

_ Then take it out. _

Hermes thought on the matter for a moment, glad that Charon couldn’t see his cheeks pinking. He still rather  _ liked _ hearing his associate, even if he couldn’t make out too much in the way of communication without the man in front of him.

“I think I’ll keep it for the time being, if it’s all the same to you, Boss.”

Hermes couldn’t help but interpret the answering hum as a little smug.

Tartarus Investments was soon within his sights. If Olympus Ltd. was the most ostentatious building in the city, its rival was the most imposing. A seemingly endless tower of gleaming black tinted windows shone like an oil slick in the midday sun, a stark contrast to the surrounding business quarter. If Hermes looked, he could still see his father’s building, though it still felt distant. In the shadow of Tartarus Investments, it was clear he was in Hades’ domain.

Hermes prepared a charming smile and strolled through the doors as if he belonged there.

He really needn’t have bothered with the act. Sat alone at an expansive, sleek desk, white curls cushioned on his crossed arms as he slept, was none other than Charon’s own brother.

Hermes was more than a little perturbed. There wasn’t even any  _ security _ for fucks’ sake. This wasn’t just easy; it was effortless. Hermes didn’t do effortless. He was a professional; he had  _ standards. _

That is why, rather than marching over to the doors at the far end of the room, he strode up to the desk and tapped his fingers against the marble. The effect was instantaneous.

“Wh- Hi! Welcome to the House of… Hold on, wrong job…” Hypnos had sat up all of a sudden, if blearily, and squinted at the sign above the doors, visible in reverse through the glass. He made silent shapes with his mouth, as if trying to parse out the words behind Hermes. “Ah! Tartarus Investments! Welcome to Tartarus Investments!” Satisfied with his greeting, Hypnos finally took a good look at who he was talking to. The way his eyes widened and his smile grew was almost cartoonish. “Hermes! I can’t say I expected to see you here… You on a mission for Charon or something?”

“Or something.” he sang, winking at the groggy man whose smile turned to a sleepy ear-to-ear grin. “How come this place is so dead?”

Hypnos giggled to himself as if Hermes had made a joke, but the statement couldn’t have been more fitting. Where Olympus was light and airy and golden, Tartarus Investments was charcoal grey and sparkled like a cave full of treasure. There was no bustle of people working; only Hypnos and Hermes under the glow of a hundred white LED lights. The doors at Olympus were always open. Here they were shut, stilling the quiet air.

It felt sort of like a mausoleum designed by the Kardashians.

“Oh, you know. Not all that much changes in the world of long-term finance. I suppose that’s why it’s  _ long term _ .”

“Ah. I wouldn’t know much about that.”

“Neither. That’s why I do receptionist stuff. Than could probably tell you, though. Or Charon - well, he probably wouldn’t  _ tell _ you...” Hypnos trailed off.

Hermes thought for a moment. “Say, speaking of work, I thought you worked on a higher floor? Less front desk and more…”

“Secretarial? Yeah. I got sent down here for a bit to consider my actions.”

_ That  _ grabbed Hermes’ attention, “What actions?”

“ _ Weeelllll…  _ I accidentally-on-purpose spiked the top floor with edibles.” he admitted, scratching absentmindedly at a list in front of him with a biro.

“Sounds like a waste of weed, boss.”

“Nah, Zagreus paid me back for it. Plus he owes me  _ big time _ now, so it was kinda worth it. He wanted to root around his dad’s stuff undisturbed. Besides, nobody ever comes in so I can sleep as much as I want here.”

“Huh. I better leave you to it then; we don’t want you falling into any more trouble.” Hermes suggested.

“No siree. Well, have a nice day!”

Before Hermes could reply, the white-haired man had pillowed his head in his arms once again, appearing to have fallen immediately back to sleep. Hermes shrugged and made his way across the lobby to the far doors, noting the keycard-access-only elevator nearby. From his earpiece, he heard Charon groan. He chuckled, unsure if the man had meant it in exasperation or humour. “Sounds like at least one of your little brothers is having fun at work, boss.” he muttered as he input the first code into the panel by the door; Charon’s answering groan was  _ definitely _ exasperated.

The panel blinked green, allowing Hermes to make his way from the lobby and up the first flight of stairs. 

  
  


-o-

  
  


After the weird silence of the ground floor, the man was relieved to hear the unmistakable bustle of a busy office from behind the next door. Through the glass window, he could make out dozens of small, neat office cubicles. Though most of them were manned, the majority of the floorspace was also taken up by workers; many hectically rushing about with various papers and files.

_ This  _ was more Hermes’ speed. After all, it was rather difficult to blend in in an empty hallway. He input the corresponding code into the door and slipped in unnoticed.

The muffled noise in the stairwell was nothing compared to being in the office. A hundred phones, printers, keyboards and conversations seemed to be going on at once, allowing the man to stroll around at his leisure. He had really only come through this way in hopes of snagging a keycard, but was really starting to have fun exploring places he wasn’t allowed.

_ Like a little cat _ , Charon had once told him.

He wove his way around desks and partitions, across the cerulean carpet and past slightly disconcerting inspirational posters. He paused next to a particularly creepy gloss print that seemed to depict what looked like a cloud - or perhaps a ball? - of lurid pink butterflies.

‘TOGETHER, WE ARE STRONGER.’ said the poster.

_ ‘Ok, Nineteen-Eighty-Four.’  _ thought Hermes.

He kept moving, swanning about as if he’d worked there for years, when he picked up an obnoxious, booming voice coming from what appeared to be a break room. Following the sound led him to a swarm of similar-looking workers surrounding a decidedly  _ dissimilar _ pair of what appeared to be managers. The larger one stood behind a much shorter blond, both intimidatingly built, nodding sagely when prompted. It appeared the smaller man was the source of the booming racket, almost reminding Hermes of his father’s bravado. He seemed to be telling some sort of anecdote, pandering to the crowd around him and seeking affirmations from his silent companion.

“And while we may have been competitors in our  _ previous _ line of employment, Asterius and I are paragons of teamwork! Just this morning we devised an outstanding improvement in the retrieval of important documentation - let us show the people, my noble companion!”

The larger one, Asterius, dutifully stepped over to the photocopier. He gingerly pressed a button, stepping back over to the blond as it spat out a piece of paper. Once it had printed, the shorter man braced himself as Asterius wrapped his massive hands around his waist and lifted him, gently throwing him in the direction of the photocopier. Upon landing, the blond seized the paper from the tray, tearing it slightly as he did so. He held the A4 up victoriously; the crowd gave a round of applause.

Hermes, who valued efficiency immensely, found himself unreasonably pissed off at the display - he had never  _ seen _ such a waste of his time; a feat given his siblings and their antics.

“Why  _ on Earth _ are they still employed?” he whispered to a worker nearby, orange lanyard hung about their neck.

“The CEO’s got no choice,” they whispered back, “a few years back he and a friend came here on business and fell through their chairs. Apparently the chairs were faulty - there was a settlement.”

“That friend?” Hermes nodded towards Asterius.

“No, someone else. Whoever they were, they got a solid payout. Theseus was eventually pulled free by some visiting freelancer, but the other guy had to go to hospital. Theseus was offered cash or the job and he took the job.”

Hermes frowned. “Why?”

“No clue. If I were him I’d have gone for the payout.” The employee leaned a little closer and lowered his voice. “His car looks flashy, but it breaks down every other week. I swear it’s more replacement parts than original car by now.”

Hermes mulled over the story as he left the crowd and made his escape through another set of doors. He input the code and found himself in another airy stairwell.

“I suppose office chairs can be faulty after all, old man.”

A slightly bemused hum came from the earpiece.

“I’ll have you know I never doubted you for a second! And, just so you know, you’re going to receive a full dramatic performance of this, including that stupid paper retrieval display. Utterly useless, I tell you boss! The whole method means neither of us would be able to see the other bend over to pick anything up, which is one of my favourite perks of the job.”

A quick jog up a few flights of stairs later saw Hermes stopped outside a rather different door. Unlike the lower floors of bustling, modern offices, the stairwell door had no glass window. It looked rather old and battered, the pincode beside it didn’t light up at all when pressed. The door was still locked shut though, leaving the man with no way in.

“Hey, associate, I don’t suppose you know much about the middle floors, do you? They’re locked and the door looks pretty busted.” He pulled at the collar of his shirt. The more he stood still (still for him) the more he felt the weight of the surrounding heat. It was unusually warm, moreso the closer he got to the door.

His phone buzzed as Charon sent him a text.

_ Most of the middle floors need refurbishing. The built-in electrics are broken, so no AC or electrical locks. _

“How unusual. You’d think the employees would have something to say about that.”

His partner didn’t answer, but Hermes imagined the shrug he probably gave all the same. With a click of his tongue, the man hopped over to the next set of stairs, hoping the next floor wouldn’t be so hot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please accept my humblest apologies for all the shitty Greek myth references, but No I Will Not stop.
> 
> Updates should stay weekly, let me know what you think (even if it's just a keysmash) in the comments, on Twitter @vityamins_ao3 or on Tumblr @vityamins.
> 
> Kudos and comments make my day! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The higher up you go, the further you have to fall.

Hermes had nearly reached a more promising door when he received another text from Charon.

_ Stop panting. _

He blinked owlishly, slowing to a walk. “I’m  _ jogging,  _ boss. Whatever for?”

There was a pause, as if the man was thinking about his next message.

_ It’s distracting. _

Hmph. “Well, it’s hardly bothering you, is it darling? You should try the stairs yourself!”

The older man huffed lightly into the earpiece.

Oh.

Perhaps it  _ was _ bothering him. Hermes’ lips slid into a catlike grin. “Unless you’re letting your imagination get away from you, are you? I wouldn’t want to make you  _ uncomfortable _ .” His usually high-paced speech was like butter, rolling over every syllable.

Charon’s answering growl had him giggling as he reached the last door, at the very top of the stairs. While he prided himself on his athleticism, there was no way he’d gotten to the top of the massive building already. It appeared the rest of the way up wouldn’t be as simple from there on out. He readjusted his suit, making sure his orange themed earrings and tie weren’t mussed from his running and input the code. 

Hermes wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. Perhaps another bustling office, or rows of meeting rooms. Anything that would look at home in the most notoriously professional firm in the city.

He certainly hadn’t anticipated the dark, foreboding empty corridor before him. Far from a workplace; it looked like a portal to another world, full or dark panelling and gold detail. The colours made it look as though it stretched on forever.

The buzz of his mobile made Hermes jump.

_ It sounds like you’ve found Tartarus. _

_ Ostentatious, isn’t it? _

“I thought the whole building was Tartarus Investments.” Hermes breathed.

_ They own Elysium and Asphodel, but they’re separate legal entities. _

“Huh, smart. They might as well be separate  _ dimensions _ with how different they look.”

He was reminded of the lobby where Hypnos no doubt still slept, though this place was somehow even more cryptlike. The air was cool and the subtle green lighting abundant, though nothing could compete with the swathes of black decor. Hermes found himself treading down the corridor at a pace much slower to that he was accustomed, creeping as if he were stalked prey.

His feet took him halfway down the corridor before he realised what was so inherently wrong with the place; it was deathly silent. Where there should have been the sound of walking or talking, or even the simple clack of a busy keyboard, there was nothing. Only Hermes.

Who had become  _ very _ thankful that he’d kept the earpiece in. Charon might’ve been silent, but the simple reassurance that Hermes could talk to him; that his partner could hear what Hermes could hear - it was enough. A pseudo-presence he carried with him.

The conman reached the end of the corridor, relieved when he found a proper office environment. Suited employees milled around quietly and efficiently, though the lift of the heavy silence was no less felt. Feeling as though he could at last get to work, he slipped on a neutral expression and made his way around the strangely dark space.

Far too much caught his attention, threatening to give him away. He strained as not to allow his head to whip around to glance at the oddities surrounding him. Perhaps it was some weird experimental working environment meant to boost productivity, or perhaps all high-flying investment bankers were weird. For one, the water coolers were all  _ red. _ Not the cooler, but the water itself. Hermes hoped it was just an aesthetic choice; that the plastic rather than the water itself was the colour of fresh-spilt blood.

Nope, he watched an employee pour a glass. The water was red.

The chairs were similarly peculiar; odd, greyish white things molded to look like a giant cupped palm. There were no wheels on them which, as well as being exceedingly odd for office furniture, was disappointing. In Hermes’ opinion, the combination of wheely chairs and long corridors were the only perks of administrative work. All of his previous employers had disagreed though, so Hades might’ve been onto something.

Even more frustrating than the unconventional working environment was the somehow even more unconventional layout. He was trying his hardest not to appear lost, but it wasn’t something he was practised at. Hermes  _ never _ got lost, and he’d be damned if he started now, but the seemingly endless labyrinth of rooms and stairs and corridors was wearing on him. While the decor was distinctive on its own, it was very difficult to distinguish from itself. He could’ve been going around in circles and not realised. Added to the fact that he hadn’t seen a single keycard to swipe, things were looking a little lousy.

At this rate, he might have to pickpocket someone. He hated pickpocketing. Unless it was for recreational purposes, it felt plain dirty - nowadays he had standards to keep up.

Hermes turned yet another dark corner, climbed another flight of dark stairs, ending up in yet another dark office space. He was about to duck into a bathroom to get his bearings and plan his next move when an alarmingly familiar head of silver-white hair came into view.

Fuck. Fuck fuck  _ fuck- _

Hermes bent down to a nearby photocopier and had it reprint whatever it’d last spat out, hoping nobody had been scanning their arse for a laugh. The action had mostly been a desperate attempt to hide from the white-haired man as he turned and scrutinized the room, however Hermes was glad of the prop that the still-warm stack of paper provided him as he was singled out and approached.

Thanatos was an absolutely terrifying force to be reckoned with. Though the shortest and youngest of the Chthonic brothers, he commanded the authority of the room with formidable ease, golden eyes capturing their prey with the inevitability of death itself. His impeccably crisp suit dared not wrinkle as he locked eyes with Hermes and stalked towards him.

“I haven’t seen you here before.”

Hermes thought on his feet. “Thanks, boss! I try to keep my head down!”

His answer sounded incredibly stupid, even to Hermes, who had the benefit of inside knowledge. He’d heard a lot about Charon’s other younger brother from his associate; the moment he recognised Hermes it was all over. He was far, far too loyal to his job to be swayed from snitching the first chance he got. It was lucky that he rarely showed up to family gatherings, or the shorter man would’ve been in real hot water. As it was, he was fairly sure they’d only met face-to-face once, years ago when Charon still lived with his brothers and their relationship was new.

Hermes was sure he looked different now than he did back then, covered in hickeys and wearing a borrowed, oversized t-shirt that may as well have had ‘well fucked’ written across the front. He judged the man’s recall all the same.

Thanatos nodded in a curt manner; it had evidently been the right thing to say.

“And what, may I ask, is your present task?”

The question sounded like a trap, moreso as that golden gaze scoured him with a frightening intensity. Hermes had no idea how long he had before the man’s memory caught up with him, though it seemed he was more suspicious of him slacking off than whether or not he actually worked there. 

Hermes’ brain went a million miles a minute as he wondered how to play the scenario. He only had one opportunity to get it right, or his uncle would come down on him like a ton of bricks. 

Hardworking was a must. Thanatos favoured it above all else. He couldn’t be  _ too  _ perfect though; in Than’s mind ‘too perfect’ was a VIP area he wouldn’t appreciate Hermes encroaching on. He thought back to Hypnos downstairs, snoozing away at the front desk.

If he played this right, he might be able to kill two birds with one stone.

“Oh, I’ve been rushing around all morning.” he said airily, putting on his dopiest smile, “The paperwork won’t do itself! Right now I’ve got these for Hades’ attention.” He tilted his head and the papers in his hand back towards the way he’d come, the only direction he could be sure Hades’ office  _ wasn’t. _

People loved to prove others wrong. It was a simple fact of psychology. Thanatos in particular liked to excise his superior capabilities under the guise of helpfulness.

He took the bait.

“I’m sure you would be more efficient starting in the correct direction.” His eyes flicked to the corridor opposite. “I’ll take you there.”

Hermes followed in silence, internally gloating at how well Thanatos had been taken in by the character carefully crafted right under his nose. If they ever met again in a personal capacity, family dinner was going to be awkward as hell.

Soon, they reached an enormous bejewelled door that stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the black walls. Hermes consoled himself that he hadn’t been as far off as he’d thought, before cracking on with the problem of how to pilfer from his uncle without ending up with a hefty bail fee.

Thanatos gave him a look as he paused.

“Don’t keep him waiting.”

“Yes, sir!”

Than frowned, a flicker of recognition crossing his face. “You sound slightly familiar. Have we spoken before?”

“Perhaps on one of the lower floors.” Hermes replied, careful to avoid the repetition of the word ‘sir’. He had a feeling it was the offending giveaway. As the silver-haired man accepted the excuse and strode back the way they had come, Hermes questioned just how thin the walls in the Chthonic brothers’ old apartment had been.

Once Thanatos was out of sight, the doors looked twice as imposing. There was no way to see into the private office, only a pair of thick, ornate golden doors. For all their proclaimed differences, Hermes was reminded of his own father’s extravagance. The only saving grace was that the doors of a comparatively modest elevator could be seen clearly from the door; he wouldn’t have to go ferreting about for it as well as a keycard.

Deciding there was no reward without risk, he knocked.

The answering silence was deafening.

He knocked again, a little louder. Still nothing. He couldn’t believe his luck.

Not wanting to count his chickens before they hatched, Hermes tentatively opened the heavy door and took a peek inside. A large semicircular desk dominated the room, shadowed by an impossibly high-backed chair. Nearly every surface was covered in neat stacks of paper, gemstones, or both. This was not the office of someone to be fucked with, but it  _ was  _ empty.

Still riding the high of his good fortune, Hermes didn’t want to jinx himself. He immediately ducked behind the desk, conscious that at any moment Hades could burst in and catch him red-handed. Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he rooted through drawers, taking a careful mental note of the location of each item before moving it, as to leave it looking untouched.

He loved going through other people’s things with the express purpose of pilfering them, especially with the risk of being caught; it almost rivalled the rush of running while being chased. He sought that same high, the rush of hormones and the feeling that his heart might beat through his chest.

“I can’t  _ believe _ your brother didn’t recognise me, partner. Thought for sure I was a goner there!”

He felt the vibration of a text message he didn’t have time to read.

“Give me a minute, sweetheart, I have to be quick here.” he laughed, exhilarated, as he picked up a thick diary sitting in the top drawer. Hermes fingered the soft black leather, worn down to grey in some places. It had been kept meticulously neat, but still betrayed its age and use, thick and littered with post-its as it was. Hermes was struck by a sudden realisation.

_ This was the filofax of a man who didn’t own a mobile phone. _

Its importance increased tenfold in Hermes’ eyes; it explained why Zeus was so adamant about wanting it. 

Afraid of chancing his luck any further, he tucked the diary firmly against his palm and left the room just as he found it, sans notebook. The daunting task of finding a keycard still loomed before him; he was about to head back to where the office workers toiled away when he heard the distinctive ding of the elevator.

Now he  _ really _ couldn’t believe his luck; clearly at least one god was smiling down on him. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he sprinted across a stretch of dark carpet and slid into the elevator just as the doors were closing, surprising the man tucking away his keycard inside.

Hermes tried in vain to avoid eye contact with the young man. It was usually easy; people tended to mind their own business in elevators. No matter how mirrored, most folk would rather work their way through as much complicated geometry as was required to find their eyes a safe, inoffensive place to rest. Not  _ this _ one though, it would seem. The man was almost as short as Hermes, a feat in itself, with thick black spiked hair and a bright red pen tucked behind his ear. No, bright orange. Yellow? Hermes quickly crossed from curious into ‘what the fuck’ territory, and that was before addressing the unblinking gaze that had been fixed on him the whole while. He turned to face the problem head-on.

“Nice pen.”

“Oh-” the fellow seemed taken aback, cheeks pinking slightly, “Thanks. I got it from a Barnes and Noble.” He pulled it from behind his ear to show him, clicking through the three colours, “They light up.”

“They?”

The man nodded, pulling a second identical pen from behind his other ear. Hermes was starting to wish he hadn’t asked.

“I have a few. I tried to impress my boyfriend by telling him I liked reading and he got me a gift card for Christmas. Problem is, I actually hate reading. So these are the only things I buy at Barnes and Noble.”

“Huh. They sell other things at Barnes and Noble. Or you could always regift things.”

The black haired man shrugged in a friendly sort of way. A few moments of silence passed as Hermes turned back to the doors and the man tucked his pens back behind his ears.

“Are you new here?” questioned Barnes-and-Noble pen man. “I don’t recall seeing you around.”

“Just passing through, boss.”

“Is that my Father’s diary?” 

It wasn’t accusatory, though it made Hermes’ blood run cold all the same.  _ Shit.  _ It was just his luck to run into the CEO’s  _ son. _ The shorter man sized the situation up quickly.

“Yep, sure is!” he chirped, readying himself to leg it the moment the doors opened. It wasn’t an excellent plan B, but hey, he made all of his best decisions on the fly. Instead, his apparent  _ cousin _ surprised him.

“Can I… Uh… Can I take a photo of something in it? Please?”

Hermes looked back at him, brows puckered.

“It’s - He doesn’t let me see it. It should be near the back.”

Perplexed, he undid the filofax and flicked to the back. Amongst the notes and rather severe handwriting there was a small picture of a rather pretty blonde woman, tucked into a protective plastic folder.

“That’s it!” He snapped a few pictures of the photograph, spamming the button on his phone as if he were afraid the first might not save. “I don’t suppose you recognise her? Or that there’s any information on her in there?” He sounded desperate, pleading the words through gritted teeth.

Hermes skimmed over the surrounding pages. “I don’t think so, sorry. You looking for her or something?”

The man ran a hand through his hair, nearly dislodging one of the glowing pens. “Yeah. She’s my birth mother. Father isn’t a fan of the idea.”

The elevator doors slid open as Hermes closed the filofax once more. He’d planned to get out of there as soon as possible. He paused, however, as he stepped into the lobby. “A word of advice, coz? You can get almost anywhere if you walk with purpose.” he said quickly, catching the other man’s smile of thanks before proving his own point by striding across the lobby.

The moment he stepped back onto the pavement, he murmured to his earpiece.

“You catch all of that, boss?” a quiet noise of affirmation came in reply. “I rather think we ought to get a little more involved in coz’s endeavour.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's left kudos and comments so far, I love you all <3
> 
> I was cracking myself up for the longest time about modernAU!zag's laurel being fucking light up pens. Is it funny? probably not. Is it self-indulgent? Definitely.
> 
> I have a great deal of thoughts about Hades being a company in a skyscraper (most of which wouldn't fit in the fic) so I'll be sharing them over on my twitter @vityamins_ao3. It largely centres around the idea that the House of Hades is at the top of the building, rather than the bottom, making the whole thing upside down. Zagreus has to escape downwards through the keycard side of the doors without his dad noticing, if Hades notices then he can somehow remotely disable the keycard to work for anything except the elevator, so he has to ride all the way up and make himself a new keycard (rather than being taken by the styx).
> 
> And if you're wondering why Zag didn't just book it out of there the moment they got to the lobby? He had to run around the room and break all the pots in there or something idk

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise for my terrible takes on ancient Greek myth, and assure you that it will only get Worse from here.
> 
> Come shout about Hades, myths in general, or anything else with me at @vityamins_ao3 on Twitter and @vityamins on Tumblr! One day I will work out how to make those links. Today is not that day.
> 
> See you next chapter!


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